


Everything Counts (in large amounts)

by MycroftianTimelady



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben is a protective bro, Dave misses Klaus, Dave/Klaus, DavexKlaus, Klaus angst, Klaus is in a bad place rn sorry, Klaus is trying so hard okay, M/M, Post-Vietnam, Sober!Klaus, Why is Luther such a dick, inner thoughts, klaus hargreeves - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 04:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18175709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftianTimelady/pseuds/MycroftianTimelady
Summary: A look into Klaus' inner thoughts as he struggles to maintain sobriety, following the re-setting of 'The Day That Was'.





	Everything Counts (in large amounts)

Memories hurt him. They were beautiful. Real. Agonising beyond pain he had felt before. It would be easier just to slip back under numbness, to dull the voices and dull the memories and see humour again in the way a dinner plate sat so firmly on a table, or how the ground was flat – things that were only funny when he’d crawled on back to the intoxicants.   
But this time, he wanted to remember. With every fibre of his being, he endured the pain because it was all he could hang on to now that… now that everything had changed. Sobriety was overrated – hadn’t he said that? It sounded false and tinny now, like an excuse. A good excuse… and he’d already come so close to giving in to that excuse. And he wasn’t. Going. To.  
Shudders rippled through his skin as the physical withdrawal took its toll. That was another thing he could do without: It was excruciating, the level of emotional pain, but it had begun to blur into the physical in some great crappy cocktail of soberness. …  
Where was he now? He’d been hunched for… how long? Clutching something hard and cold. The floor was a clammy dampness . He’d had his eyes jammed shut for too long, and as his piercingly real memories receded, what was left in his view was an aching sense of darkness. As clenched as his eyelids were, his jaw was too – he could scream here, if he wanted, but muscle memory still forced him not to reveal his position. There was no danger here? Wrong, there was danger everywhere. And screaming wouldn’t help.   
Opening his eyes at last, he stretched his eyes open, taking in the cool green light. Awareness set back in: he was crouched at the toilet seat, a small bag of blue crystals dangling from his fingertips. A smile broke onto his face: raw relief that he had the means to dull the sharpness in his throat, to dry the tears.   
“Yessss.” He whispered aloud, holding the bag up to the light.  
“Klaus!”   
A voice from behind. He jumped a little, then with the realisation of his dear brother’s appearance, he rolled his eyes, shoulders slumping.   
“Not your business, Ben. Go… run along with your other ghosty pals or something.”  
“Put it down Klaus, I can’t watch this. You’ve come too far already.”  
“Do you have ghost friends in the afterlife? I mean, when I’m not here, do you have like aaaa… ghost girlfriend?” He rose an eyebrow, slowly prising open the bag.   
“I can see you, dumbass. Don’t change the subject. Listen to me!” Ben reached out to take the bag. Unsurprisingly, his outstretched hand passed straight through.   
“How about a boyfriend, got one of those either? You’re worried about me, man – I’m worried about you.”  
“Do you think Dave would have wanted to see you like this?”  
Klaus froze. His eyes closed. Anger set upon his brows, his lips.  
“Don’t you fucking dare.” He hissed through clenched teeth.   
But then a stillness overcame him, and he dragged his hands over his eyes. He looked up to the light, a frustrated, yet determined stillness reassuring him of what he was about to do. Then he tipped the bag on its head, and emptied the crystals into the toilet bowl.  
For a moment he stared into it, watching how blue streaks spread through the water as they dissolved. Steadying his breath, he reached for the flush, sending the drugs tumbling into the system. For now, it was over. A small hurdle. And God he regretted it immediately. He was exhausted by the struggle, so tired of fighting another war.   
He gripped his hands before his head, dipping his gaze to the floor. And he thought of Dave.   
Dave’s smile, so full of light: light, that’s what he was, every inch of him radiant, emitting this warmth which had seeped into his skin at the touch, had illuminated the darkest corners of his own mind. Dave was not a burning fire, but the steady wash of sunlight.  
A knock at the door snapped him from the memory, like emerging from a hot bath to a cold room.   
“Busy.” he sniffed. Whoever it was could fuck right off.  
“Oh good. You’re up.”  
Luther. Yep, he could definitely fuck right off. It wasn’t even funny any more, like it used to be. Big, powerful Luther with his stupid power complex. Usually there was at least some comment he could make: whatever whimsy came to mind. But his happier mind was silent, and he could only focus on the texture of his skin. How sharp and false it felt, a prickling contrast to the burning ache in the pit of his stomach.  
Luther’s voice was distorted in his ears, as though he was forced underwater. Something about another family meeting and the living room. Oh fantastic joy. Sounds like a real hoot. Just where he wants to be on this fine, fine morning.  
He didn’t turn to look, instead concentrating on holding together the anger which threatened to burst out. Although, the anger was mulling into a careless frustration: that was it, he really didn’t care. Didn’t give a shit about the big ‘ol apocaplypse.  
“Like… Now-ish.”   
He was just Too Tired for it . All he wanted was to be left alone to his plans. That’s what they didn’t get – none of them seemed to understand that when they thought they saw a moping, crazy bastard, they were witnessing a clear plan of action which he was trying so hard to enact. Admittedly, the plan included an awful lot of reflection and thought: but they would not understand how difficult those periods of reflection were. They just saw their crackhead brother abandoning the joke that was The Umbrella Academy.  
“Yeah, that sounds like a real rager, but my schedule’s already chock-full.” He managed to murmur.   
“Yeah, no time for that. The world’s ending in three days.”

Three days?


End file.
